A Woman's Worth
by prettypinklips
Summary: "I've heard a great deal about you, Asami Sato. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home. Impersonated a soldier! Deceived your commanding officer! Destroyed my palace! Dishonored the Chinese Army! And, you have saved us all." -— iroh ii/asami, mulan/lok au.
1. Chapter 1

**summary: **"I've heard a great deal about you, Asami Sato. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home. _Impersonated_ a soldier! _Deceived_ your commanding officer! _Destroyed_my palace! _Dishonored_ the United Nations! And, you have saved us _all._" mulan/lok au.

**pairings/characters:** iroh ii/asami, mako, bolin, mako/korra, idk who else asdfghjkl

**notes:** this is probably the best idea i've ever had

**notes2:** this takes place in the mulan-esque era idk when the fuck that was but yeah google is your friend.

**notes3:** asami kicking ass, taking names, and saying fuck you to gender roles like a boss. also, iroh in uniform, also kicking ass and taking names, and training asami to be a warrior you know you like it already. ANYWAY I RAMBLE. also, i'm just using the 100 Years War as the name of a war. it has nothing to do with aang or anything so. like, there is no avatar, just normal benders.

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_A Woman's Worth_

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—

"You're nineteen years old, Asami. It's time for you to find a husband, settle down, give me grandchildren. No more of this training. You're not a boy, Asami, and you're not a bender, either. I don't understand why you continue to pursue this—" her father leans heavily on his cane, grimacing in pain. She's learned not to ask if his leg is hurting, because he always answers with a gruff 'no'. The 100 Years War had taken a tole on him many years before, and he'd taken an arrow in his remembers him sitting her on his good knee, explaining why he couldn't dance with her at parties, or play with her in her room. _War,_ he had said, has casualties. _Life long casualties._ He'd thumped his bad knee then with his fist, and she'd stared, curious. _You must remember that, my daughter. Do not go to war with the intentions of coming back in one piece. _

Asami sighs, flipping her hair over one shoulder. She sets the dagger she'd been practicing with down, turning to her father, "I like knowing that I can defend myself, papa. And I don't need bending to be strong." she tells him, hands on her hips. He's never understood her passion for hand-to-hand combat, and she doesn't really blame him. A woman does not fight. A woman bears children, pours tea for her husband, keeps up the household. Oppression-ism at its finest, she supposes. She liked makeup and doing her hair, never leaves the house until she's completely ready, but she still couldn't understand why a woman was less than a man, when man wouldn't exist without women. She never would understand, she thinks. It was stupid to her.

Hiroshi Sato puts a hand on her shoulder, "I know you're strong, my dear. The strongest of us all, and I do admire all of your hardwork. I allowed it when you were young, believing it was just a phase, but now—"

"Now I must uphold the family honor." Asami repeats the statement she's heard thousands and thousands of times in the last few years, "I know, I know. I understand." she picks the dagger up again, weighing it in her hands. Her father raises an eyebrow, and she whips around, flinging the dagger at the paper target on the wall. The dagger hits its mark and she smiles a little. _This_ is what she's meant to do. She's not meant for housekeeping and laundry and bearing children. There's nothing wrong with any of those things, certainly, but she feels most comfortable in a training tunic than a wives dress. She wishes, for the thousandth time, that she'd been born a boy. That she could have whatever she wanted in the world, without the worry of gender roles.

"Come, Asami." her father says gently, taking her arm with the hand he's not holding his cane with, "We will discuss the list of suitors I've drawn up for you." Asami blanches, but lets her father lead her out of her small training room.

She's in high demand, she knows. Her father is Hiroshi Sato, a war hero. He'd saved the lives of hundreds of men in the 100 Years War, and many boys looked upon him as a god. They demanded her hand, wishing to get one step closer to her father. She hated it sometimes. Being the daughter of a wealthy war hero had its quirks, certainly, but the uproar over her hand was not one of them. Her father had allowed her to turn down any offers before she turned nineteen, but he'd made her swear that she would be considerate of them after she became of age. She'd dreaded coming of age, and with good reason too.

She had turned nineteen just three weeks before, and it had been a nightmare ever since.

Her father leads her across the grounds, and they stop at the stables to feed Asami's horse, Pabu. Their lands were large and extensive, bigger than most in the small town they lived in. The lands of their home were a mix of all people: benders and non-benders alike. Many years before, Emperor Aang, the soul heir of the airbending lineage, father of the now Emperor Tenzin, had decreed that discrimination between benders and non-benders was to be outlawed. Four Nations had become one: the United Empire. The four elements and the non-benders lived in harmony for many years, under Aang, and his advisers from the Nations: benders and non-benders alike. Her mother had always told her stories of Aang and his friends, battling great adversity and prevailing. There had been Katara, a waterbender, Toph, an earthbender, Sokka, a non-bender, Suki, a non-bender, Zuko, a firebender and son of the previous Fire Lord Ozai. Ozai had been one of the many who spoke out against non-benders, and he had also tried to squash the three other Nations, until Zuko had risen up against him. She had always found those stories romantic, especially the tale of Katara of the Southern Water Tribes falling in love with the would-be Fire Lord Zuko. But she had already promised herself to Aang in order to restore balance between the Nations, proving that benders of all kinds could be together and happy. It had broken her heart when she was a child, not understanding why two people who loved each other so could not be together.

Aang and Katara had ruled when she was very small, and Aang had passed away soon after she had found out about Zuko and Katara, caught in the middle of a world war, unable to be with who they loved because of narrow-minded prejudices.

Asami smiles as she thinks of the pair, her favorite star-crossed lovers growing up. When she had found out that Katara and Zuko had finally married in their old age, and that they had lived out the remainder of their days, together, happy, and in love. She could only hope that one day she could find a Zuko.

The Satos had a large house, a manor some called it, stables, a small training room her father had built just for her, and they had the usual run of chickens and goats. It was a good and easy life she lived, but she wanted something more.

She wanted a life worth living, a life worth fighting for.

She didn't want to be stuck in this gated property forever.

She clutches at her father's arm as he leads her away from the stables and towards their house. She loves her father so very much, and for him, she will marry. It would bring great honor to her family, and perhaps her father would choose a man that she would learn to love, a man she could co-exist with. One who didn't mind that she favored a blade over a sewing needle. One who didn't mind her riding in the early mornings. One who didn't mind if she shot a bow and arrow. One who didn't mind if she unsheathed a sword.

Asami could only hope.

Just as the pair reaches the door to their home, a gong sounds. Asami turns, and hears the distinct rumble of horses galloping. Her father drops her arm, and leaning on his cane, limps towards the gates of their property. Asami runs ahead of him, pushing the gates open. A messenger is sitting on a white horse, scroll unrolling in his lap. She recognizes the crest on the scroll as the crest of Emperor Tenzin, and her heart drops. She's heard rumors around town, though her father had quickly shot down her worries, that a militia of men were rising up under the leader of a man named Amon. Amon wanted leadership, wanted to be the head of the United Nations. She'd expressed her fears to her father, worrying about the starting of a new war. He'd smiled at her, patted her head, and had said, "Even if a war broke out, daughter, you would have nothing to fear," he'd gestured to his leg, "I'm of no use to the United Army now."

She steps out of the gates, and her father grabs her arm, pulling her back. "Stay." he commands, jaw clenched, eyes stormy like they always are when he's remembering the war.

Asami slinks back into the gates, peaking out from behind the wooden double doors.

"Gentleman," the messenger crows as the men of the village gather around him, "Amon and his Equalists have risen up, and have taken the Great Wall." there are gasps all around, and a mother pulls her children back into her hut. Asami lifts a hand to her mouth, shocked, and the messenger continues, "The Emperor has ordered that one man from every family in Ba Sing Se must report to the military base Omashu tomorrow morning for training. Any family that does not report one son will be guilty of treason." he meets Asami's eyes, before they flicker away, nose curling up in disdain. The messenger pulls the scroll up to his face, and begins calling out names. Asami's heart pounds as he travels down the list in alphabetical order, getting closer and closer to her surname.

Finally, he's there, "The Sato family!" his voice booms, and her father sucks in a breath, standing as tall as he can. He tosses his cane aside, and her eyes widen. _No,_ she thinks, surging forward. She reaches out to him, but he's already at the messenger, accepting his scroll. Her eyes fill with tears, and she clasps a hand over her mouth as he turns back, his eyes finding her immediately. His eyes are filled with sorrow, and as he limps towards her, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, leading her back into the gates.

—

"It's not fair." Asami whispers, stabbing at her rice, "You've _already_ served. You've _already_ fought. You've already sacrificed enough."

Her father is quiet for a moment, pouring himself some tea, "It is an honor to protect my country, and my family. I will do what I must to ensure your bright future." he says, "It is an honor to serve under the Emperor."

"Is that all you care about? Your _honor?_" she spits, jumping up. "You will _die _out there!" Asami hisses.

"Then I will die doing what is right." he says calmly, sipping his tea.

Asami sinks to the ground, crumpling into herself. She is weak, for once, "I can't lose you, too. I've already lost mother. I can't—I _won't_ lose you, too."

Her father limps to her side, and folds his arms around her. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she presses her face into his chest. She knows he will not come back. His injuries make him easy picking for Amon's men. She will lose her father. She will lose _everything._

"Know that I love you more than anything, my daughter. Know that I leave tomorrow to protect you." he whispers into her hair.

_No,_ she thinks, an idea stirring, _**I** will protect **you.**_

—

The house is quiet when Asami rises from her bed, tiptoeing down the halls of their home to her father's study. He keeps all of his prized possessions there: his sword, her mother's things, his scrolls, his armor.

She pushes the door open, and steals the scroll the messenger had given him from his desk. The closet is behind the desk, and she inches her way toward it, reaching a hand out and laying it on the wood. She sucks in a deep breath, closing her eyes. This is her last night in this house, her last night in its warmth. This had been her mother's house, her mother's pride and joy. She'd kept it clean, kept it tidy. She'd been a woman that loved a clean house, a good meal, and tidy clothing. Asami had never understood why, but she missed her mother's obsessive need to clean the house from top to bottom once a moon.

She shakes her head, blowing out the breath she'd been holding in.

Asami throws the closet's double doors open, and steps back. The red and white uniform of the United Nations' Army is intimidating, larger than life, terrifying in the flickering candlelight. She swallows roughly, reaching out. Her father's sword is heavy in her hands, and she kneels under its weight. She sets it down, marveling at the glint it gives off, even after years of non-use. She combs her hair over one shoulder, running her fingers through the silk tresses. She loves her hair, more than anything. It reminds her of her mother, and nights after a bath, where her mother would comb her hair and braid it neatly down her back, cooing bedtime stories into her ear. She hasn't cut it since her mother's death.

Asami grips the sword with one hand, lifting it with a little trouble, gathers her hair in her empty hand, and slices the blade through her tresses before she loses her willpower and changes her mind. Her eyes water as she opens her hand, twelve inches of her hair falling to the floor. She sucks in a shuddering breath, holding back her tears. She has no time for crying. She's doing this for her father. There is no time for weakness. She stands shakily, flinging the closet's doors open fully, grabbing the armor with shaking hands. It is heavy on her slim body, but she stands tall, sweeping her hair back with a red ribbon. The sword slides into its sheath at her side, her hand on the hilt. Her reflection in the mirror is not of her, Asami Sato, but of a soldier for the United Nations.

She pushes the closet door closed, eyes downcast. She can't believe she's doing this. Death is in her near future, by battle, at an Equalist' hands. Or, if she's discovered as a woman, at the hands of her commanding officer. Fear grips her, but she clenches her jaw, because she's going to do this anyway.

She strides from the room, head held high. It's raining as she pushes the front door to her mansion open. Before, she would have ducked, covering her head, lest her makeup and hair get ruined. Now, she pushes forward, letting the rain pelt her makeup-less face and un-styled hair. She is a soldier in the war. There is no time for letting things like a little rain push her around. At least, that's what she tells herself.

She's honestly terrified. How is she going to pull this off? How is she going to fool a _general_ in the United Army? She thinks of this as she enters the stables, and her horse, Pabu neighs, stepping backwards in his stall. He doesn't recognize her. His eyes are wide, his auburn coat rising on his back. She holds her hand up, "It's me." she promises in a whisper, and upon hearing her voice, Pabu nuzzles her hand with his nose. "We're going to war, Pabu. We're," she swallows, "we're going to save papa."

Pabu neighs again, and steps forward. Gripping his reigns, she swings herself onto his back. "Ride fast and hard," she whispers, "or else we'll be caught." Asami kicks his sides, and they take off, breaking through the stables partially closed doors. The gates to the Sato property are simple wood, and she urges Pabu forward as he starts to slow, "No time to unlock them." she tells him, and her rears back, kicking the doors open with his front legs.

"Go!" she cries, turning to see candles flicking on in her home.

And they ride out, to meet her death, or to meet her glory, she does not know.

All she knows is that, if she's caught, she may never see the light of day again.

—

_tbc._


	2. Chapter 2

**summary: **"I've heard a great deal about you, Asami Sato. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home. _Impersonated_ a soldier! _Deceived_ your commanding officer! _Destroyed_ my palace!_Dishonored_ the Chinese Army! And, you have saved us _all._" mulan/lok au.

**pairings/characters:** iroh ii/asami, mako, bolin, mako/korra, idk who else asdfghjkl

**notes:** you spoil me with your reviews asdfghjkl

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_A Woman's Worth_

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The sword is heavy on her hip, but Asami urges Pabu forward anyway. Every fiber of her being is begging her to turn back, to turn Pabu around and run home. She closes her eyes, sucking a deep breath. She can't turn back now, and nor, really, does she want to. Her mind may be telling her that she will be killed when she is inevitably caught, but her heart is telling her that her father, the only family she has left, needs her to do this. He needs her to take his place in this war. She's never been a martyr or anything of the sort, and she's never really given any thought to death, she's never even experienced it's affects aside from her mother's passing, but she has no ill qualms with it now. An ease has settled over her, and the nettling feeling of restlessness has disappeared.

She's going to war for her father. She will not bow to something as girlish as a little fear. She is a soldier now.

As she thinks this, Asami opens her eyes, lifting her chin proudly, like a man. Pabu neighs beneath her, tossing his head, mane flying. She pats his side, "C'mon, Pabu, we have to be in Omashu by morning." she scratches at the hair bunched on top of her head, "I have no idea how I'm going to pull this off." she mutters to Pabu, or maybe to herself. She can't possbily pass herself off as a man. She rises back up, huffing out a breath.

Pabu halts suddenly, and she sways on the saddle, clutching the reigns. The forest path is eerily silent. How had she not noticed the crying of the birds and the chittering bugs dispersing? She lays a hand on the hilt of her sword, eyes darting back and forth. "Stay." she murmurs, feeling Pabu start to backtrack. A branch snaps not five feet from her, and without delay, she unsheathes her sword—

An arrow zigs out of the trees, knocking her sword out of her hand. Asami cries out, shocked, and jumps from Pabu's back, lifting the blade from the ground. Pabu neighs in fear behind her, and Asami turns in time to see a black cloathed figure jump from the trees, slapping Pabu's rear, sending him running down the path. The black cloathed assailtant notches another arrow, standing on a rock on the side of the path. The arrow is aimed right at her.

Asami's heart is racing, but she stands, sword raised. She swings it left and right, meeting the clear stark blue eyes of the form in front of her. They stare each other down, and then the black cloathed figure steps further out of the trees shadows, and lowers the bow and arrow, looking curious. Twin ponytails peak out of the figures hood, and the blue eyes sparkle in excitement. Asami surveys the bridge of the nose, and the curve of the eyebrows, and realizes she's been bested by another woman. She slides her sword back into its hilt, holding her hands out. The girl grins beneath the cloth covering her mouth, and she whips it off, revealing sparkling white teeth. She careens off of the rock, flipping in the air, landing gracefully on her feet. She lands in front of Asami, and pushes the black hood off of her head.

"Hey," the girl grins wider, "I'm Korra." and she shoves out her hand.

Asami forgets herself, forgets that she's dressed as a man, that she's pretending to be a man, and she takes Korra's hand, "Asami." she says, pumping Korra's hand up and down once.

Korra peers at her curiously, "Why are you wearing United Nations armor?" she questions, suspicious.

Asami freezes up, "I—"

Korra snickers as Asami fights for an answer, "Don't worry." she murmurs, looking around, and she pulls her black cloak completely off, revealing chainmail and the red and white colors of the United Nations' Army uniforms. She winks as Asami's eyes widen, "Your secret's safe with me."

—

"My mom, dad, and I moved to Ba Sing Se from the Southern Water Tribe when I was six or seven, I don't really remember." Korra pokes a stick into the roaring fire Asami had started. She's seated on a log across from her, knees pulled up to her chest, light from the fire dancing across her mocha colored skin. "I was fifteen when they were killed. It was...a freak accident, I guess. They were in town, doing something so completely mundane that I almost thought my pseudo grandmother was lying when she told me they were killed. They were birthday shopping for me, because I was turning sixteen in two weeks, and this gang, lead by a masked man, completely massacred the market. I remember smelling the burning stalls and the crushed fruit. My father was killed for being a waterbender, and my mother was killed...because she was guilty by association." Korra looks up at her then, "It was the worst birthday I've ever had."

"A masked man..." Asami repeats, head tilted, _father killed for being a waterbender, _"Amon!" she gasps, surprised. "Oh, Korra, I'm so sorry." Asami rememebers the burning of a small fishing village on the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. It had been one of Amon's first big, life-altering attacks. She had never, however, met anyone directly affected by it. Looking at Korra now, so forlorn and broken, she's glad she's one of the many who's decided to take a stand against the Equalists.

Korra, as well, it seems.

"Once I heard that Emporer Tenzin was gathering troops," she fingers one of her wofltails, "I knew I had to do something. For my parents." she meets Asami's gaze, "And I guess you were thinking the same thing?" she raises a chocolate eyebrow questioningly.

"My father." Asami says, and that's explanation enough. "He's injured, permanantly, from the 100 Years War. I couldn't let him go back into the fray."

Korra nods, still tugging on her hair. She nods at Asami's hair, "You're way ahead of me. I couldn't...I haven't worked up the courage to cut it yet. I haven't since my parents died." even as she speaks, she unties her wolftails, and the one on the very top of her head, letting it flow down her back. She pulls a knife from her boot, slicing it through the ends of her hair. She keeps slicing until her chocolate locks stop level with her collarbone. She ties it up in the same way Asami has, a tight knot on top of her head. She looks different, still femenine, but if Asami didn't know any better, she'd believe Korra was male. She wonders what she looks like to the girl across from her.

For the first time, Asami notices her new friend's—her _only_ friend's—clothing. Light blue mixes with white furs and dark blues. "Can you bend?" she asks suddenly, and Korra' head snaps up.

She lifts her hand, and water from the skin at her feet dances around her fingers in answer.

"Amazing." Asami breathes, watching in interest. Bending has always fascinated her.

Korra plops the water back into the skin, shrugging, "I'd rather have my parents."

It's quiet after that.

—

Standing in front of the gates of the Omashu mililtary base, Korra and Asami glance at each other, both clothed in their respective red and white uniforms, bow and arrows strapped across Korra's back, sword locked in Asami's sheath, Pabu's reigns held tight in one of her hands.

Korra blows out an anxious breath, "You ready?" she asks, staring out at the morning sun fading into the clouds above, shedding light on the hundreds of white tents and men milling about.

"As I'll ever be." Asami says, and with that, they step forward, and Asami's comforted that she's not alone, not alone for the first time in a long time.

—

_tbc._


End file.
